


Rescue Me With Your Smile

by TheFandomLesbian



Series: Angela's Raulson One-Shots [18]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Blind Cordelia, F/F, Fluff, No Smut, Romance, foxxay - Freeform, goode-day, pre-Seven Wonders, raulson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 22:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17292413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFandomLesbian/pseuds/TheFandomLesbian
Summary: After learning of Cordelia's constant pain from the acid attack, Misty decides to try to help her.





	Rescue Me With Your Smile

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt: "Misty and Cordelia get to know each other after their initial meeting when Misty offers to help Cordelia with the pain on her eyes from the acid attack."

_“So I tripped and I fell  
I got lost for a little while  
But you caught me in your loving arms  
_ _Rescued me with your smile._ ” -Christine McVie, “Givin’ It Back” 

...

Zoe slipped into the greenhouse late one afternoon as the sunset streaked over the horizon. “Hey, Misty?” The house had overgrown with plants since Cordelia’s accident. No one kept it clean, and in Cordelia’s absence, the herbs and flowers returned to their natural state. She kicked a vine off of her ankle. “Misty? You out here?” She had seen the eccentric hippie witch slip into the greenhouse through her bedroom window a few hours ago. 

From behind a lily with broad, green leaves, Misty popped her head. “Hey. Is it alright that I’m piddling out here? Seems like nobody uses it.” 

Her brow quirked. “Oh, um--yeah, it’s fine. Nobody’s been out here since Cordelia had her, um, her… thing.” She didn’t know how to succinctly explain what had happened to Cordelia, especially since Misty had brought back the woman who had allegedly crippled her. 

“The blind lady?” Zoe hummed a vague agreement. “She’s awful pretty, isn’t she?” 

“Um… She’s kind of old?” 

“Well, I mean, I’m just saying--what’s her deal?”

Lips pursing, Zoe tilted her head. This was not what she had come to talk to Misty about. “Her--deal?” she repeated, and Misty nodded and shrugged as she snipped the leaves off of a pretty flowered plant. “I mean, she can, like, See into the future and past and stuff, now. If she touches you, that is. It’s all new. She couldn’t do it before.” 

Misty grinned. “That’s wicked cool.” Her cheeks had a pink tint. “Not the whole, blindness thing, but the magic.” 

Pushing some big leaves out of the way, Zoe crinkled her nose. Some of the plants reeked. “Yeah, if you’re into having your mind read,” she muttered. 

Paying no attention to Zoe, Misty continued to ramble, “It’s so cool. She knows so much about magic. I was reading one of these journals, trying to figure out how to take care of these stinky little shits, and, like, they’re all handwritten. I never met somebody so smart before. How come she don’t come out anymore?”

Liking Misty in spite of all of her eccentricities was difficult for Zoe. “Well… I think it hurts. Like, phantom pain, or something, like the people who lose limbs and stuff. Acid burns, and it takes awhile to heal.” It was the best way she knew how to explain it, and it was just secondhand from what Nan told them when Cordelia started missing meals. “And, um, she isn’t good at the whole… being blind thing, yet. Try trimming those plants with your eyes closed and see how many fingers you lose.” 

She almost expected Misty to try it and find out. She didn’t. “Do you think she wants help?”

“I--I don’t know, I haven’t really talked to her.” Misty opened her mouth to say something else, but Zoe held up her hand. “Listen, I just wanted to ask you about Kyle!” Cordelia was among the least interesting topics before her right now. She didn’t grasp Misty’s fixation on the headmistress. Cordelia was just a witch, and not a very good one at that. She was kind and sweet and gentle, but she had the spine of a slug. 

At the mention of Kyle, Misty set her jaw. “What about that  _ ouragan _ ? I wash my hands of him.” 

Deciding better than to ask the meaning of the word Misty had used, Zoe cleared her throat. “I just thought, maybe, you might know something that could, like, help him. Calm him down and make him normal. Like he was before he died.” 

“It ain’t my problem you decided to compile your boyfriend from a butchery like Frankenstein’s monster.” Zoe averted her eyes. Misty softened. “Listen, there’s a bunch of potions Cordelia’s written up down here. I’ll try to work on something for him. If I kill him by accident, I can always bring him back.”

It wasn’t promising, but it was the best Zoe figured she would get. “Thanks, Misty.” She offered a timid smile to Misty, but the other woman had already gone back to snipping a plant with blue flowers and peering over a journal which, indeed, had handwritten descriptions and drawings enclosed. With a sigh, Zoe left the greenhouse, leaving Misty to her lonely peace.

…

Long after night fell and the crickets hummed outside, the distant stars twinkling and offering meager light for her work, Misty raised her head from another plant. “It got awful dark.” She had made her way through most of the plants and cleaned them up back to good health like the journal instructed. Surveying the room, she gave a small, satisfied smile. She had done good work. Careful not to disturb the nighttime creatures, she headed out to the garden hose and sprayed the dirt off of her hands and feet so she wouldn’t track anything into the house. She may have been raised in a barn, but she wasn’t about to treat her new house like one when they had welcomed her. 

She held the front door open just enough where it wouldn’t squeak, and she slipped through it, placing her feet on the wooden floor in certain places where noises wouldn’t emerge. She didn’t want to disturb anyone.  _ Good god, I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.  _ On the balls of her feet, Misty crept down the hall and into the kitchen. Her hand fumbled for the light switch. 

The bright lights illuminated Cordelia’s figure at the counter. Misty stifled a yelp by slapping her hand over her mouth. Cordelia kept working at the counter; she hadn’t heard Misty enter the house. The blind witch had a napkin in front of her and two pieces of bread, and almost every cabinet was open as she searched for something. She pulled out jars one by one, felt them, opened them, smelled them, and then put them on the counter--they weren’t what she was looking for. Cordelia’s hand wrapped pulled a jar of peanut butter from the cabinet. She unscrewed it and sniffed it. Delight spread across her face. She dipped her pinky finger into the peanut butter and licked it up, as if to verify the identity of the condiment she’d found. 

Misty cleared her throat. Cordelia flinched. “Hey, Miss Cordelia.” 

“Misty.” Cordelia hastily screwed the lid back onto the jar of peanut butter. “How long have you been there?” 

_ If I’d been here very long, I would’ve helped you find the peanut butter. _ “I just came in from outside. I was playing with your plants. What are you doing messing around in the dark? Scared the devil out of me, just about.” 

Cordelia raised an eyebrow at her.  _ Oh. Right. _ Fortunately, Cordelia didn’t call any attention to her stupid question. She approached the other witch. “How are they?” Misty blinked at the strange question, and at her silence, Cordelia clarified in a soft voice, “The plants.” 

“Oh. Oh! Right. They’re just dandy. I trimmed ‘em up, just like the books said, and got the room cleaned up a little bit so somebody can actually walk through it.” 

A sorrowful look colored Cordelia’s face with discontent. “Thank you for taking care of them.” Misty picked up some of the jars and started to stuff them back into the cabinet. “Oh--don’t worry about it--I’m sorry, I’ll get out of the way.” Cordelia started to pull all of her things down the counter to make more room for Misty.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t run off. I’m just gonna warm up some supper. Would you want some of that instead? ‘Cause I took out the last of the jam with a spoon this morning.” Misty wondered if she should have been ashamed of herself, but she brushed the notion aside. She had woken up hungry and hadn’t cared to toast some bread for the jam. 

Cordelia shook her head. “No, I--I can’t.”

Misty’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, you can’t? Your mouth still works, don’t it?”

A hand fluttered to the bridge of Cordelia’s nose. Her whole face screwed up into a pained grimace, lips tenting downward. She pressed her fingers over her closed eyelids. The mutilated, pink skin flushed red as if with the memory of the attack which had crippled her. She pressed hard on her eyes, like the pressure would relieve the agony there. Misty frowned. “Hey… Are you okay?” She reached for Cordelia’s hand where it rested on the countertop. She didn’t hesitate. She wasn’t afraid of what Cordelia might See when they touched. Cordelia had soft hands smooth as honey.  _ Zoe said it hurts.  _ Misty bit her lower lip as she waited for the pain to pass. 

As it did, the first thing Cordelia managed to say was an apology. “I’m so sorry.” She was breathless. “I’m fine. It’s all in my head.” She said the words ruefully. 

“Doesn’t look like it’s all in your head.” 

“I’m fine,” Cordelia repeated, and she picked up the knife beside the napkin on the counter--a huge, eight inch chef’s knife. Misty’s eyes widened as Cordelia unscrewed the jar of peanut butter again and stuck the blade of the giant knife into the peanut butter. 

Her voice caught in her throat. Cordelia pulled the blade slathered in peanut butter out out of the jar. “Er--maybe we shouldn’t spread the peanut butter on the bread with a steak knife? Just a thought.” 

Cordelia blinked. “It’s not a steak knife. It’s a butter knife, see--” Misty gaped. Cordelia pulled the blade back and plunged it into her own hand. “Oh  _ shit! _ ” She released the knife, now covered in peanut butter and blood, which gushed from Cordelia’s palm and dribbled all over the rug and the floor and the counter. Misty grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to the sink. Flicking on the cold water, she put the gaping wound under the stream, washing away the peanut butter, though the blood burbled back to the surface as quickly as she brushed it away. 

A tight breath hitched in Cordelia’s throat. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her other hand drew into a white-knuckled fist.  _ She’s trying not to cry. C’mon, Misty, say something! Say something right for once! _ She liked Cordelia. Why did she have to be so inept? “It’s okay,” she blurted, tearing off a bunch of paper towels and pressing them to the bleeding wound. “It’s okay. It’s not that bad.” 

“Don’t lie to me.” She was holding Cordelia’s hand. Cordelia could detect her falsehoods. Settling into silence, Misty helplessly bit her lip, trying to keep herself from saying anything else dumb. Cordelia cleared her throat. “Will you drive me to the hospital?” she asked in a low voice. “I’ll need stitches.” 

She said it in a flat way, but the despondent expression on her face betrayed her. Witches weren’t meant to rely on modern medicine, not really. Misty could only imagine the scorn Cordelia would be subject to by Fiona in the morning. “Nah, c’mon--there must be half a dozen potions out there that’ll mend you right up. I know I can make one of them if you help me get the right stuff.” Fiona would absolutely  _ kill  _ her if she let some doctor clean up Cordelia’s hand, but disturbing the Supreme now seemed like an equally horrible idea. 

“Fiona won’t care.” Misty remained silent, unsure how to respond, unsure what Cordelia was Seeing of her. Cordelia’s lower lip trembled. On reflex, something driving her from within, Misty lifted her hand from Cordelia’s and stilled her shaking mouth with her thumb. “I--I can’t. Help you. I don’t know how.” 

Misty tilted her head. “What do you mean? I looked through your books. You wrote all that stuff--you’re, like, Hermione Granger.”

In spite of the blood quickly soaking the paper towel, a tiny, wry smile broke Cordelia’s face. “I’m not as smart as you think I am.” She cradled Cordelia’s soft cheek in the palm of her hand, cupping it.  _ Good lord, she’s so pretty.  _ In the bright light of the kitchen, Cordelia’s messy, caramel-colored hair framed her face and set out her freckles. “I can’t help you. The last time I went into the greenhouse, I poisoned myself.” 

“I won’t let that happen. Promise.” 

Hand flexing, a grimace passed across Cordelia’s face. “Alright,” she whispered. The sorrow clung to the corners of her eyes and her lips. With her other hand, she took Misty’s arm.  _ She smells really good, too.  _ The proximity between them allowed her to smell Cordelia’s perfume, or her soap, or her shampoo, or  _ something _ that was unique and womanly.  _ It’s definitely her hair.  _ Cordelia blushed, but she didn’t say anything, and Misty was glad she didn’t call her out on her admiring thoughts. 

Cordelia didn’t have her cane--she had left it on the kitchen counter with all of the jars and the bread and the peanut butter and the knife and the spatters of blood--so Misty carefully led her through the front door. It creaked in its frame as she pulled it open. “There’s a stoop.” Cordelia hesitated at the steps, but clinging to Misty, she took them one at a time, ankles caving underneath her. “Careful. I’ve gotcha.” 

“Thank you,” Cordelia breathed, tense as a rail. The darkness made no difference to her, but the night chill caused a shiver to trail down her spine. She licked her lips. “Thank you,” she said again. 

“It’s alright. C’mon.” Misty led her down the cracked cobblestone sidewalk. The weeds had grown up around the sidewalk and brushed their ankles.  _ Somebody’s gotta clean this up. No wonder she never goes outside.  _ She had taken it for granted, the messy nature of the yard, but for Cordelia, it was like handing a toddler a grenade and hoping they didn’t pull the pin. Misty pushed the door to the greenhouse open. “Watch out.”  _ Watch out. Dumbass.  _ “There’s a door stop.” 

She stepped over it with some dexterity. “I should wait here… I don’t want to get in the way.” 

“Nah, you’re not in the way. I need moral support. C’mon.” Misty dragged Cordelia, who stumbled along reluctantly between the tables and past the freshly snipped vines, alongside her to the spot where she had left the journals. “Which one do you think I should try? Preferably nothing that will blow up.” 

Swallowing hard, Cordelia’s nostrils flared with a considerate sigh as she resigned herself to the task. “Um… I--I would do the--the aloe, calendula, and chamomile blend.”

“Alright.” Misty didn’t waste any time in flinging open the book and grabbing the mortar and pestle. She picked some orange flowers from the calendula and tossed them into the bowl, and then she stripped some aloe leaves and tossed them in with the yellow petals. The chamomile went next; it smelled pleasant. The recipe called for a pinch of arnica, which she added, and then she glanced down at the incantation. 

Cordelia sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. Misty stole a sideways glance at her. Cordelia pinched her good hand over her eyes again, a pained expression on her face.  _ I’ve got to do something about that.  _ “Here.” Misty cleared a bunch of the plants and empty pots from the table, and she boosted Cordelia up onto the table so she could sit on it. Grinding up the herbs into a paste, she squinted to make out Cordelia’s cursive handwriting on the page. It was in Latin. Fortunately, Misty had gone to enough masses in her life to know how to read some Latin. “Manus curare paterentur.” Her finger traced the underside of the words as she read them aloud. It was foreign to her, summoning her magic through speech, but as she did it, she could feel ancient parts of herself stirring through the roots of the women before her branching out into her own limbs. “Tange cor meum patitur.”  _ What does any of this mean, anyway? _ “Patitur animam meam ut consolarentur hanon. Magicae mihi liceat ipsis promptior animus foret.” 

As she spoke the incantation, the paste blended up into a cream with a pleasant scent like cinnamon rising from it. “Okay,” Misty exhaled. She took Cordelia’s bad hand and unfurled it, unsticking the sodden paper towels from her palm. “You okay?” 

Her voice trembled. “Y-Yeah. I’m fine.” She removed her hand from her face. “I’m sorry.” Her lips formed a frowning tent. 

Dipping her fingers into the paste, Misty spread it across the cut. “Here. It’s alright. I’m taking care of you.” Cordelia’s free hand floated in the air, hovering like a blind hummingbird, before her fingertips brushed against Misty’s hair. Her hand slipped down to feel Misty’s face. Misty closed her eyes and smiled into the palm as it caressed her cheek, her nose, her mouth. Cordelia’s hand paused on her cheek. Her face froze in deep thought, lips pursing and eyebrows quirking together, and she closed her mangled eyes. Misty turned her head to kiss the inside of her palm where it rested on her cheek. She massaged the paste into Cordelia’s hand with tender fingers. The cut vanished as the enchanted potion touched it. 

Rubbing the cream into the skin, Misty waited for the wound to become a raised, pink scar before she lifted her eyes back up to Cordelia’s preoccupied face. “Hey. All better now.” 

Marbled eyes blinked in surprise.  _ She Saw something.  _ Cordelia slid her hand all over Misty’s face again. “Right. Thank you.” She swallowed hard and reluctantly peeled her palm off of Misty’s face. “You’re very kind, Misty.” 

“Well, of course. I want to be your friend.” Cordelia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Is there any potion I can make for that?” she asked in a softer voice. 

Turning her face away, Cordelia shook her head. “No… I don’t think so.” 

Misty put her hand over Cordelia’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Will you let me try something I think might help?” 

Opening her freshly healed hand to Misty, Cordelia nodded. “Yes--Yes, of course.” She allowed Misty’s hand to slide out of hers. Misty drew back away from her. “Where are you going?” 

She blew a kiss. Cordelia couldn’t see it. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Misty!” Misty knew where she was going, though, and she stayed near enough to keep Cordelia in her line of sight. She filled a cup with hose water and stirred in some crushed mint leaves and lavender petals. There was no Latin incantation, but her magic rose to the surface to imbue the mixture, and as it did so, it changed colors and bubbled with a bluish froth. She used the hose to spray into a jar full of soil, and then she scooped the fresh mud into the bowl and made her way back to Cordelia. 

She put the dirty cup in Cordelia’s hand. “Drink.” 

Sniffing it, Cordelia raised her eyebrows. “What is it? It smells good.” 

It occurred to Misty that she hadn’t actually named it; she had always called it tea when she had to make it for other people who weren’t witches and didn’t know better. “I dunno. I made it up,” she answered honestly. “My granny used to ask me to make it to help with her migraines. It won’t hurt you. It’s just hose water and leaves.” 

Her bad explanation had convinced Cordelia, who put the rim of the cup to her lips and sipped hesitantly. The taste wasn’t horrible. She took larger swallows once she had tasted it. “Close your eyes.” Misty dabbed up the mud between her index and middle fingers. She smeared it over Cordelia’s mutilated eyelids where the acid had scarred her face. “Don’t open them. You probably shouldn’t get dirt in your eyes.” 

“It’s not like it will make me more blind.” Cordelia extended her hand again, reaching into the abyss, and this time, Misty took it and placed it on her face. Her other hand followed the first so they worked in tandem to map out Misty’s face. “Thank you.” She tugged Misty’s face closer to hers. Misty’s eyes widened as Cordelia’s warm breath crossed her own mouth. But Cordelia didn’t make a move. She waited there, uncertain, afraid to budge. 

Misty licked her lips. “What did you See?” Her voice came in a bare whisper. 

Cordelia’s voice was just as soft. “What do you think I Saw?” 

It was an invitation. Misty bowed her face forward and kissed Cordelia on the lips. Her dry mouth touched the other woman’s chapped lips. It lasted but a few seconds, but when she drew back, all of the breath whistled from her lungs. “Was that right?” 

One of Cordelia’s thumbs trailed down her cheekbone. “Yes.” 

The curdling growl of Misty’s stomach interrupted them. Misty offered a nervous laugh, and Cordelia reciprocated, a shaky chuckle leaving her. “C’mon. I’ve got some tomatoes in the garden. They should be good enough for dinner.” 

She turned her back to Cordelia and took her hands. Fumbling for a moment, Cordelia wrapped her arms around Misty’s neck. “Are you sure this is a good--Oof!” Misty hoisted her off of the table and hooked her arms under her legs, carrying her on her back. Cordelia laughed, burying her face into Misty’s curls, tightening her legs around her waist. “Are you okay?” she asked in spite of her laughter. “Is this too much?” 

“I’m fine!” Misty bounced her a little, and Cordelia hid her face in Misty’s hair to keep from laughing more.  _ I’m making her happy. _ She had known little but solemness from Cordelia since she came here, but her smile opened a goldmine in Misty’s heart, and the sound of her laugh warmed her very soul. “Get the light.” Cordelia put a hand on the wall. “Up--not that far. To the right. Little lower--there!” Cordelia flicked off the lightswitch and cast the greenhouse into darkness, and Misty plodded out into the garden. 

The overgrown tomato and vegetable plants brushed against their legs as Misty combed through rows. “This was empty before,” Cordelia whispered into the side of her neck. “What did you do?” 

Misty released Cordelia’s legs and eased her back onto the ground. “I found a bunch of veggie seeds in the garage. I got pretty good at growing vegetables fast--being I had to eat them.” She took Cordelia’s hands and tugged her down. “C’mon. We can sit on my sleeping bag.” 

She hoped Cordelia would let it slide, but Cordelia was far too intuitive to miss it. “You have a sleeping bag out here?” she asked in a soft voice. “Why?” 

Picking a round tomato off of the vine, Misty checked it over for bugs in the moonlight before she put it in Cordelia’s hand. “I sleep better under the stars. With the crickets. With the smell of the dirt, and the sound of the wind, and waking up with the sunrise and the songbirds. Feels more like home to me.” 

Cordelia crossed her legs on the sleeping bag. “This is your home now, Misty.” 

Turning another tomato in her hand, Misty checked it before she took a bite out of it. The juice ran down her face and dribbled down her wrist. “You really think so?” 

An arm wrapped around Misty’s shoulders as Cordelia scooted closer beside her. “Yes.” Cordelia’s body was warm and soft and smelled like cinnamon and vanilla. Misty bowed her head into Cordelia’s hair to drink in the sweet scent. “The coven is here to protect you. And you have a lot to offer the coven. Myrtle is right--you could easily be the next Supreme.” Misty shook her head, but Cordelia didn’t let the notion go so easily. “You’re doing impressive magic. With the plants, and the potion, and Madison. No one else could have done that. I think it’s important for you to know that.” 

Misty smiled. “Thank you, Miss Cordelia. I’m flattered.” She wasn’t convinced, but Cordelia spoke with conviction, and she knew enough of Cordelia to value her opinion. “I don’t think I want it,” she admitted in a whisper, “but… if I’ve got you, I can handle it.” 

Cordelia’s soft smile widened. She pressed her lips to Misty’s wet, tomato juice-covered cheek. “You’ve got me.” Misty kissed Cordelia’s temple with her sticky lips. “But you should sleep inside. It’s not safe out here. Especially with the witch hunters.” 

It was tempting for her to brush aside Cordelia’s concern and blow her off, but her tender body and sweet smell and the heat blowing off her skin were addictive, and something about the way Cordelia touched her pressed affection into her skin. She couldn’t let it escape without a fight. “I’ll think about it.” She nudged Cordelia. “Eat your tomato, princess.” 

“I’ll make a mess.” 

“That’s literally the point of eating a whole tomato. If you don’t want to look like a toddler, you slice it first.” Cordelia inclined her eyebrows, but Misty’s encouragement was enough; she sank her teeth into the soft red flesh of the fruit. Tomato juice dribbled down her chin, but Misty caught it with her thumb and wiped it away and licked it off of her finger. 

They both made loud slurping noises as they finished off the tomatoes, staining their clothes with the juice and the seeds. Misty unzipped the sleeping bag. “Can I stay out here with you tonight?” Cordelia asked. “If--Only if that’s okay--I just want to know you’re safe--”

“Yes!” Misty’s answer was a little too enthusiastic, and she scrambled to right herself. “Of course, I’d love the company.” She opened the sleeping bag and unfolded it. “Here.” Cordelia stuck her legs into the sleeping bag with Misty’s guidance. Misty slithered in after her. It was a one-person sleeping bag, so they fit snugly together. “Is--Is this alright?” Misty asked after a moment’s hesitation. 

Rolling onto her back, Cordelia brushed her body against Misty’s. “Yes. It’s wonderful.” The crickets rolled through the garden, and the wind rattled one of the shutters of the greenhouse. “Misty, I… I like you a lot.” She touched Misty’s curly hair with a hesitant hand, like she feared her touch was unwelcome. Misty nuzzled into the touch. “Thank you for helping me.” 

“I like you, too.”  _ I love you. _ Misty knew she felt it, but she was afraid to say it. Normal people didn’t say things like that. She didn’t want to risk scaring Cordelia away. 

Unfortunately, she forgot the presence of Cordelia’s hand on her face until Cordelia wriggled forward and kissed her. Their lips pressed against one another’s and wiggled with an uncertain rhythm. Misty’s breath hitched in her throat, but she reciprocated the gentle kiss. Her mouth opened. Cordelia’s tongue slithered inside and touched hers. As Cordelia tugged away, she licked her lips. “I love you, too.” 

Misty placed an arm on Cordelia’s waist. “Do your eyes feel better?” 

Cordelia’s eyelashes brushed her skin under the thick, caked layer of mud on her eyelids. “They do… They haven’t hurt at all since you brought me out here.”

“Good.” Misty licked her thumb and used it to wipe away the muck from Cordelia’s face. “I don’t ever want you to hurt again.” Cordelia pressed her face into the crook of Misty’s neck. “Goodnight, Miss Cordelia.”

Face crinkling with discomfort, Cordelia murmured, “Maybe don’t call me that now?” 

Misty smirked. “Alright. I won’t.” She ran her hand through Cordelia’s hair. The crickets hummed outside, and the sweet sounds of the night settled over the garden, but Misty remained awake, even as Cordelia drifted off to sleep. Her gaze landed on the star-streaked sky far above them in the garden. Cordelia nuzzled against her in her sleep.  _ Which one of those stars decided to bring us together?  _ she wondered.  _ And will any of them ever decide to tear us apart?  _


End file.
